The Cruelest Fate
by Lord Onisyr
Summary: After 'The Lesser Evil', Drizzt trades philosophies, affections, and mind games with a priest of Vhaeraun in an affair that may either be love, control, or both.
1. One: True Intentions

**The Cruelest Fate**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

Author's Note: This story takes place after "The Lesser Evil" and a short while before "The Lesser Evil: Hooligan's Holiday." Once again, Drizzt is a different character in this piece and I strongly recommend reading "The Lesser Evil" before this one and it might give more detail information to "The Lesser Evil: Hooligan's Holiday." This story has been begging to be written in some form and I at last found the proper plot with which to do it.

"The Cruelest Fate" is rated R for strong sexual themes relating to male homosexuality and some strong language, though I ask all my readers to keep an open mind.

Drizzt allowed his elbows to sink further into the wool blanket while savoring the itching burn in his back caused by the constant pricking of a small needle stuck underneath his skin repeatedly; a sensation he found rather exhilarating as well as cleansing. Mazn'reysla's gentle, yet repeated jabs were taking his mind off so many things that had plagued his thoughts for the past day, yet occasionally those painful thoughts would pass through again like a specter.

He cleared his mind again and felt the itch of the blanket press further against his bare abdomen as he concentrated on the itch in his back. His keen ears opened further and caught the sounds of the village just outside the opening of the cave a few feet away. A familiar group of drow were cheering someone on. Then came the clashing of steel and the occasional grunt of a human voice he recognized all too well. Drizzt smiled and looked towards the opening of the small cave; apparently Artemis had found a sparring partner.

Drizzt allowed his head to swivel around slightly to see the High Priest sitting next to him in a cross-legged sit, his stylus covered in blood and a bright green inkwell beside him almost empty. Drizzt craned his neck further to see the bright green markings on his skin that took the shape of vivid leaves. He flashed Mazn'reysla a smile and turned his attentions back to the front of the cave. The strong, early spring breeze outside gently wafted through the opening and delivered the fresh smell of leaves and melted snow that cut through the wet must of the rocks. Cormanthor was in the midst of its yearly youth; the fresh breeze of early spring carried a lingering chill that still refused to die despite the warming weather. Small patches of snow still lingered on the base of the trees, yet multi-colored flowers pushed through and gave the snow its greatest competition for ground.

It was a place Drizzt Do'Urden's instincts screamed at him to avoid.

The drow had spent the past year savoring the hot, humid weather of summer, the turning leaves and nipping chill of autumn, and the winter's snows and bitter cold. These were all seasons that held promise for him; seasons that reminded him of life, especially the wonderful life he lived now. Then the first warmth of early spring slowly crept over everything, the sun shining higher as the snows melted and the air became fresher.

Drizzt felt the dread in his heart as everyday past. Even in Baldur's Gate, where the weather was much warmer than in his unlamented former home of Icewind Dale, he could feel the all too familiar turn of the seasons and the lingering ache in his heart. The day was drawing closer. He wanted to ignore the seeping dread in his being, yet it could not be pried out at all.

All these thoughts floated through his mind again despite all his efforts to push them out. No matter where he was, it would be this day everywhere: the exact one year anniversary of his wife's murder. One year ago that day, Drizzt Do'Urden was a different man in a different life with his beloved Catti-brie beside him. It was early morning, just after sunrise when they met a group of bandits in battle; the skirmish ended with Catti-brie Do'Urden's head flying from her body and Drizzt Do'Urden falling apart inside.

It had taken Drizzt the whole year to recover himself. He lost everything that day, personally, emotionally, spiritually, everything. The phoenix who emerged from these ashes was a completely different individual; the Companions of the Hall shunned him, Icewind Dale cast him out, Mielikki abandoned him, though all were through a combination of his own doing as well as the cruel hands of fate; while his new companions were the drow of Cormanthor, his new deity was the dark god Vhaeraun, and his new brothers were Jarlaxle and Artemis Entreri, his mortal enemy proving more sympathetic and understanding than all his goodly companions. He forsook the life of a goodly ranger for that of an assassin; and in his mind it was a good trade. His former life was spent convincing himself that he was just another goodly elf, now he embraced his true nature as the violent, lustful drow he was.

It was a time when he was convinced everything was perfect; all of his personal struggles resolved as he savored his new life. Nothing, however could not prepare himself when the weather turned and it became that time of year once again.

He thought he could handle himself, simply put the day out of his head. He still thought this through a few more tips of the bottle than he would like to admit and his chaotic nature taking a few more lives than necessary. Drizzt finally admitted the truth to himself after an assassination of a heavily debted trader became a messy affair. A single blow to the back with his shocking dagger should have been enough to take care of the job quickly, yet what the whelp received was a twisting stab at the electricity fried his internal organs. His teacher Entreri, also his superior in Bani Pilazi's thieves' guild, was less than pleased, though Drizzt didn't expect him to merely give him a screaming and then calm to order him to Cormanthor for the night.

Entreri had also proven himself once again as Drizzt's loudest voice of reason; the veteran assassin was a staunch student of law and was the perfect balance to Drizzt's chaos. He knew his surly friend could have merely cast him out for the night as a liability to his business, but Drizzt strongly suspected that there was indeed a tinge of empathy in his words. Nevertheless, the wave of a teleportation wand delivered Drizzt to Cormanthor and the company of his people just after sunset. An hour later, Entreri and Jarlaxle also arrived in solidarity, he hoped, though that was hardly likely. It was probably more in their own need for a small retreat most likely, though Drizzt slightly suspected the other motivation.

When he last left his companions, Entreri was listening to a young braggart boast about his own sword skills while Jarlaxle was sitting by the fire telling exaggerated tales of his own exploits to some children. Drizzt had occupied his growing unease by playing bones with a few of his colleagues. Then Mazn'reysla approached; his friend, his spiritual counselor, his colleague, came up to him with his usual calm gait and whispered a suggestion in his ear.

Now it was two hours later and Drizzt still felt the itch in his skin, though Mazn'reysla's more careful strokes told him his work was almost complete. At last, the itching stopped.

"I have a mirror down the corridor," the High Priest said calmly.

Drizzt propped himself on his elbows with a grin and gradually lifted himself to his feet, facing his friend's innocent gaze. Mazn'reysla smiled and turned around, walking further down the stone corridor with Drizzt following close behind. This cavern was Mazn'reysla's private workshop. As a wizard, he used it to store spell components and tomes while experimenting on spells of his own making. As Vhaeraun's High Priest, he also used it as a meditation chamber. It was also the place where he would summon the avatar of his god for further information, though it was a ritual that Mazn'reysla rarely needed to perform; he had been born with a strong attunement to the planes. Vhaeraun was a constant presence, he could even see him anytime he wanted and hear his voice even more frequently. Mazn'reysla also had a private chamber in a lower level where he kept and tortured enemies to Vhaeraun and the Auzcovyn Clan and he was especially skilled at what he did.

Mazn'reysla led Drizzt down a winding corridor adorned with various bunches of dried plants, some even containing the severed fingers and toes of enemies as a cruel adornment. Their way ended in a small, dark room lighted by many purple, glowing tapestries lining the rock walls and illuminating a circular, red cushioned mattress in the center. Mazn'reysla raised a tiny hand and lifted aside one of the tapestries, revealing a large, obsidian mirror. Drizzt turned around and looked at Mazn'reysla's handy work: a small clump of bright green vines collected at the union between his neck and shoulders that contained leaves so detailed they almost looked like they were popping out of his skin. A tiny amount of blood still oozed out and the flesh was still swollen, but this was perfect.

Drizzt grinned as he looked at the design in awe. Just a year ago, he had no desire for any body adornment. His ears were pierced when he was a small boy as per drow fondness for jewelry, which added to the appearance of nobility. When he first reached the surface, the earrings came out and the holes grew in within the year. He wanted nothing to remind him of his former life and embraced simplicity in all things. That was another thing about him that changed in the past year. Since then, Jarlaxle re-pierced both lobes and Drizzt had added a few rings since then. Just a month back, one of his fellow Auzcovyn soldiers volunteered to add another hoop to the side cartilage of his left ear underneath the one he put in last year. Now his High Priest had tattooed his back and was now inching closer to him and gently dabbing a cloth covered in a sweet smelling salve over his raw skin. It was a cooling feeling that swam through his skin and made him feel wonderful.

"Many thanks," Drizzt said, "you are indeed and artist."

Mazn'reysla gave his usual calm smile and dropped the cloth on a nearby trunk, the glowing tapestries illuminating his fine, champagne-blond hair to a shade of glowing golden while his skin shone more like polished obsidian.

"The pain is cleansing," Mazn'reysla said softly. "That little burn souring your flesh leaves all your hurts to charred cinders; especially regarding a human woman."

Drizzt furrowed his brows taken slightly aback at this sudden turn in the conversation, though he did his best to remain calm and allowed the priest get his point across. Mazn'reysla never said or did anything without a higher purpose that was usually for Drizzt's benefit. It was Mazn'reysla who saved his life last year after he had been shot with an elven arrow. He was his former classmate and the one who introduced him to the faith of Vhaeraun, even summoning the avatar of the Masked Lord and allowing them both a formal introduction. Drizzt came out of that encounter with a long scar across his jaw, a new scimitar, and faith in a new god.

Drizzt didn't know whether he should shout out all of his inner feelings or box Mazn'reysla's ears for being so brash. Judging by the cleric's raised eyebrows and patient smile; he knew the look on his face said everything.

"I have touched on a rather raw subject," the cleric continued, "one that you have made a point of avoiding for the past year, though it eats at you. There are two types of pain, Drizzt; there is the kind that drives you, burns out the venom, makes you feel alive, and then there is the kind that simply kills you. You are drow, so I know you savor the former, but you need to let it destroy the latter."

Drizzt looked into his beaming red eyes. Something inside screamed not to trust this cruel creature. He was a true drow in every way; cruel, violent, scheming, though he was completely unlike the rest of his Menzoberranzyr kin. Somehow, Drizzt felt completely comfortable in his confidence. Mazn'reysla was merely a few years younger than Drizzt, but his face made him look like age never mattered; an innocent visage that held much venom.

"I met her when she was just a child," Drizzt said, feeling numb as the words came out, wanting to finally have so much free from his soul. "The she grew to womanhood. I could have had her anytime I wanted, but I could never even bring myself to call her beautiful."

"Your honor got in the way," the High Priest said in a tone of understanding, though he gave a small sneer of vindication.

"That changed during the war against Obould," he continued, ignoring Mazn'reysla's expression and just letting everything pour out. "It took me thinking she was gone for me to at last admit my feelings. Then we were reunited, made love for the first time, and were married within the year. Two years. For two blissful years she was completely mine, we had each other and nothing mattered."

"Then she died," Mazn'reysla said with no hint of emotion.

Drizzt nodded, allowing the numbness to creep in further and block out any stabs of pain or emotion.

"Killed right in front of me," he replied. "That was the beginning of the end."

"That was when Mielikki began to cry and Ilmater screamed in anguish; when Lolth spun her web a little eagerly and our Lord told me to watch for your appearance."

Drizzt sighed hard; these were words that said everything. He looked to the wall and gave a silent nod.

"So I see you suffered the cruelest fate any drow could suffer," the priest said, looking at his friend. "I understand."

Drizzt stared right into Mazn'reysla's eyes and gave him a sneer of doubt. He was probing him, or maybe finding the sore spot and massaging it out.

"To love," Mazn'reysla said.

The words struck Drizzt hard, their meaning suddenly making sense.

"Love is not a word in our native vocabulary," the cleric continued. "The way of the drow is personal pleasure; fine wine, fine food, fine sleeping quarters, and bedmates by the hundreds. We like being pleasured, though to actually feel is a different story. A drow capable of feeling love is the most vulnerable; a fool when betrayed, lost when the love is lost."

"Have you ever felt love, Mazn'reysla?" Drizzt asked without missing a beat.

Mazn'reysla gave him his usual calm look, but it was a look tinged with a hint of sadness.

"I have felt," he responded, "that is bad enough. I have come to appreciate personal pleasure, but there are those little pricks that get you sometimes."

"Very true," Drizzt said with a tired smile. "So you know what I feel."

"It has been exactly a year since your human was killed," he said distantly.

Drizzt nodded, though he knew something inside the priest was ready to come out.

Mazn'reysla was still at first, biting his lower lip almost nervously. Then a small finger shot forward and trailed down his stomach, finding its way just under his belt. Drizzt gave a sharp intake of breath. Mazn'reysla looked at him with a calm look that seemed to reveal all that was building up inside him.

"What are your true intentions, Mazn'reysla?" he asked, giving him a pointed, yet curious look.

The hand traveled further down his trousers, a touch that Drizzt welcomed. This was dangerous territory; Mazn'reysla was a cruel and powerful drow. He was also very child-like and innocent; beautiful maybe? Drizzt smiled and Mazn'reysla's eyes seemed to glow in response. His hand traveled down further as if he received his signal and gently clutched his most intimate being. Mazn'reysla's grip stopped for a second as he looked at Drizzt in anticipation, his wide, red eyes in a look of curiosity. Drizzt smiled; Mazn'reysla would not act further unless given permission. He was behaving more like a shy young man becoming intimate with a woman for the first time than a lust-filled drow getting what he wants; or maybe a shy young man finally admitting his feelings to a distant crush.

Drizzt let his muscles relax and he nodded. Mazn'reysla continued his grip, slowly massaging. Drizzt gave a small sigh, feeling the small hand work absolute wonders as his mind screamed at him to end this; his conscious mind, however. The High Priest leaned in and lightly brushed Drizzt's neck with his nose, then leaning in further and lightly nibbling on the skin. His bite became slightly harder, though Drizzt savored the slight pain as the rush continued and his mind continued screaming at him. It was a scream he used to hear all the time: the scream of a mind guided by stoicism and self-denial, a scream that would pierce his being every time he went against any of his old "principles." The last time he heard this voice was right after he slaughtered all the laypeople in a chapel of Ilmater and for some reason it returned over…such a minor thing. Drizzt had learned to silence the voice, as he did now while allowing the waves of pleasure from the hands of another male.

Mazn'reysla then stopped, sliding his hand out of Drizzt's trousers. Drizzt looked at him in incredulity. Mazn'reysla merely smiled playfully.

"What game are you playing?" Drizzt asked in a teasing tone tinged with a bit of irritation.

Mazn'reysla gave a profound blink and smiled.

"No games," the High Priest responded, his innocent look still intact. "I am just wondering what you would do now."

Drizzt paused and studied a glowing tapestry on the wall, giving a long sigh as he tried to order his thoughts. Mazn'reysla stared at him and Drizzt swore he saw him growing impatient; it was a sight he savored for a second.

"You lost your wife one year ago tonight," Mazn'reysla continued, his normal cool breaking slightly. "The fate of love is now past to history. Now you have been recapturing who you are, finding the pleasure that you denied. Until now, that has only consisted of nights of drinking with cheap whores. I'm sure that can get boring. In my opinion, you need to expand your horizons a little."

"Like having another man," Drizzt responded with a small smile. Like being taken by a cruel, powerful dark elf, his mind responded back, though the baser part of his being managed to throttle the voice at last. "You want me," he said, giving a tiny voice to his cautious before it died.

"Of course," the High Priest said, a hint of desperation in his voice. "I want to help you free your mind, get rid of your inhibitions and fully enjoy your life."

"The fact that you have wanted to fuck me the first second you saw me at the Academy is irrelevant," Drizzt replied as calmly as possible.

Mazn'reysla at first looked at him in denial, though the downward turn of his eyes indicated defeat.

"Fine," the High Priest continued, his voice shaking slightly as it all began to come out, "You are completely beautiful; the mysterious, handsome warrior I first met in Sorcere. Yes, I did just want to fuck you."

"Those pesky emotions, so uncharacteristic of a drow, snuck in," Drizzt said.

Mazn'reysla nodded slightly, trying to wrestle down a calm look.

"I didn't take you while you were in your deep Reverie," the cleric said, finding the strength in his voice.

"I know you never took me in my coma," Drizzt responded. "Because my companions never left my side and would have delivered you a slow, painful death."

"Well, that and rape is against everything I believe," Mazn'reysla continued. "I would like to have you, but that is a personal opinion. The rest is up to you."

Drizzt stared at him and Mazn'reysla stared back, his unnervingly calm gaze taking more of a purpose. The fallen ranger was ready for anything at that point, though this was a bit of a new experience. He never had another man before, the closest thing he had ever come to such intimacies was kissing the avatar of Vhaeraun in defiant rage: a moment he had to say he found somewhat enjoyable.

He continued looking at Mazn'reysla, who maintained his quiet gaze. Drizzt then put out all thoughts of reluctance in the wave of curiosity and lust that surged through him now. He grabbed Mazn'reysla's shoulders and started kissing him passionately, pressing his lips violently against his and forcing his tongue in between. Mazn'reysla pushed him away with a great force and gave him a look of teasing scolding. The High Priest then grabbed his shoulders gently and pushed him towards the Reverie couch, leading him gently to a sitting position and kissing him with less gusto.

None of the kisses were deep; in fact they were tiny pecks gentle enough to spur Drizzt on even more. His passion was less quelled, though less rough. He simply allowed himself to be pulled into this heated moment, the slowness making his body heat rise even more. Mazn'reysla moved aside and gently led Drizzt to lie completely prone on the bed. He was so taken in this moment that he barely noticed Mazn'reysla had already slipped his boots off while his trousers were following close behind.

He is controlling you, a voice screamed in his head as the black, leather pants were now on the cave floor and he was completely nude before this strange drow. He is playing with your emotions so he can have his way with you and you are just going along with it like the fool you are.

Drizzt allowed his vision to focus more, becoming perfectly aware of everything that was going on. He was a warrior and physically he could overcome Mazn'reysla if necessary. He did not feel the need to do that, not because he felt safe, but he felt completely comfortable. He searched through his mind trying to find any evidence of mind control, but Mazn'reysla was not a psionic and his wizard school was not Enchantment. Drizzt's elven senses felt no presence of magic; just his own complete curiosity and passion taking him over.

Mazn'reysla straddled him with his knees. His boots were already off and Drizzt reached up and undid the strings on his tight, leather trousers, gently peeling them down and revealing all of him. Mazn'reysla gradually unbuttoned his black tunic and threw it to the floor while sliding down his trousers. Drizzt now had a nude male leaning over his own naked form. He looked up and saw Mazn'reysla's soft, champagne-blonde hair hanging down and framing his beaming face. His body was small and had little muscle tone, making him look almost like a beautiful woman, though his flat, toned chest and exposed phallus made him obviously male. It was a sight that appealed to Drizzt even more, the total uniqueness of this whole situation making his body even warmer. Mazn'reysla then reached for the black, cloth half mask on his face and slowly removed it, placing it gently on his pile of clothes. His beautiful face was fully revealed and all Drizzt wanted to do now was savor him.

The High Priest then reached down into his belt on the floor and produced a small vial that Drizzt recognized as jasmine oil he frequently used for anointing, uncorking the bottle of yellow liquid with one finger.

"Shall I continue our little experiment?" the High Priest asked.

Drizzt nodded fervently, though he was a bit nervous. He knew he was about to be taken, though given Mazn'reysla's personality, he knew that the High Priest was sharing an experience with him. Mazn'reysla leaned down and kissed him softy, one hand lifting one leg over his shoulder, and the other following on the other. Mazn'reysla's hand raked down Drizzt's chest, his mid-length fingernails leaving marks down his skin and producing a passioned sigh. He the smelled the oil and braced himself for what was to come next.

"This will be painful at first," Mazn'ryesla said.

Drizzt nodded, beckoning him to continue.

It indeed started as a searing pain, and then quickly erupted into absolute bliss; a sensation he had never known before but quickly enjoyed. Mazn'reysla's pace was gentle. Drizzt looked up and saw the cleric's hair gently bobbing across his thin shoulders as his innocent face was locked in a state of calm, almost as if he was in the midst of meditation; a sight that unnerved Drizzt and made his partner more beautiful. Drizzt closed his eyes and allowed himself to be taken by the pure wave of bliss, the small pangs of pain only adding to his ecstasy. He started to caress his partner's torso, but then the waves of pleasure caused him to grip tightly on his hips and guide him deeper.

Mazn'reysla quickened his pace and raked his nails down Drizzt's chest once more, gently rubbing his nipples as his eyes opened briefly to gaze at Drizzt in his ecstasy. His pace became harder, almost violent. The pain returned, joined by the burning itch in his back as perspiration mingled with the fresh cuts as they dug deeper into the soft mattress, though he savored it all. It was a chaotic rapture that had taken him over; like the purest form of play. Drizzt looked up and still saw Mazn'reysla's face in its look of quiet meditation, only this time his eyes were closed and he allowed himself some long sighs; all the while locked into a savage pace while grabbing Drizzt's side and digging his nails into the skin. His pace became more violent, though Drizzt wanted it to continue, the wave slowly building and coming near its end.

He let out a series of passioned groans as he heard Mazn'reysla's gentle sighs and felt him release. Drizzt gave another groan and the wave passed. He felt the High Priest withdraw, though he remained prone in absolute bliss. Mazn'reysla came to a cross-legged sit beside him and leaned forward, his face in a look of smug satisfaction.

Drizzt allowed his vision to focus as he finally found his voice.

"That was fucking amazing," he gasped.

Mazn'reysla just continued staring at him with his calm gaze.

"Did that clear your soul a little?" the High Priest asked.

Drizzt raised a hand and gently caressed the length of Mazn'reysla's jaw. Mazn'reysla closed his eyes and sighed. Drizzt gradually came to a sit and embraced him, kissing the side of his face and his neck. His partner shivered and melted at the touch. Drizzt's hand gradually traveled to those thin locks, which he suddenly clasped with a violent force.

"Did you enjoy having your way with me?" Drizzt hissed in his ear. "Now are you going to run out and tell our entire village that you played Drizzt Do'Urden like your whore?"

Maz gave a happy sigh, his eyes still closed.

"You know the answer to that question," he cooed.

Drizzt gave a wide smile, loosening the grip on his hair and smoothing out the pulled roots. He leaned in and kissed him, biting his lip to the point where he drew a tiny spot of blood. Mazn'reysla gave a long sigh as he melted further into the embrace.

"So are you going to keep me waiting," Mazn'reysla whispered, opening his eyes and giving Drizzt an impatient look.

Drizzt grabbed Mazn'reysla's shoulders and roughly guided him onto his back, taking the vile of oil with a grin.

000000000

"And what in the name of the Demonweb did you do to yourself?" a familiar voice called as Drizzt mingled through the crowd of nightly revelers.

Drizzt looked behind him to see Jarlaxle coming through the crowd, the mercenary's visible eye fixed on his bare shoulders. He stopped and felt a slender finger gently tracing the bright green vines embedded into his skin and giving off a slight sting. Jarlaxle examined the design with a look of great interest, nodding in approval at its beauty.

"Mazn'reysla is indeed a man of many talents," Drizzt said, giving a playful glance to the masked, black-clad figure beside him and receiving one in return.

Jarlaxle seemed to notice the exchange, giving a small smile and throwing his nose in the air as if to avoid the subject entirely.

"I see he is," the mercenary replied, giving Mazn'reysla a curt nod in recognition before going off to find another group to play with.

Drizzt chuckled and continued through the crowd. The air took a chill, but he was more comfortable with his shirt off; enough to sooth the burn in his skin and dry the sweat that had gradually built up over the past few hours. He glanced down to his abdomen and saw the marks from Mazn'reysla's fingernails had indeed faded with that salve the High Priest had given him just a few minutes ago. Drizzt breathed in the fresh breeze, letting it mingle with the rest of his surging senses as they slowly calmed. He had allowed himself to be taken by another man; a man who allowed himself to be taken in return.

Drizzt looked over again to Mazn'reysla, who stared ahead with a smile broader than any he had ever seen. The cleric had feelings of some sort for him. If it was true love, he was doing a good job of hiding it, though a part of him doubted it was simple drow lust. It was something, and Drizzt had to admit he felt something for Mazn'reysla as well that he himself had yet to define. Maybe it was better for the both of them if that something was forever undefined.

Drizzt casually passed his human companion, who was drinking a mug of ale with his sparring partner and conversing casually. Drizzt could feel the black eyes regard him for a second before abruptly returning to the design on his back.

"That's some nice work," Entreri said gruffly, before patting Drizzt hard between his shoulder blades and his neck and sending out a wave of pain, followed by a dirty laugh.

Drizzt looked back at the assassin, who was still giving him a wicked grin. He flashed him an obscene gesture and with a smile and walked off;

Mazn'reysla walking closely beside him.


	2. Two: Patchwork Drow

**The Cruelest Fate**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©, with the exception of Jakadirek Mi'iduor, who is the property of euphorbic and used with kind permission. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

Author's Note: Yes, I actually intended to do another chapter to this story, thought I was just waiting for my perverted muses to come knocking on my door. Well, they came and here you go.

**Chapter 2: Patchwork Drow**

No one was in the halls tonight; all of the Pilazi Guild's usual scoundrels were off to their own bloody mischief. No one noticed the dark elf casually strolling down the hallway, which was always a good thing, though Drizzt was perpetually on his guard especially since his scimitars were back in his room. His lithe, ebony form was encased in only a long robe of maroon silk lined in black velvet and fastened with a series of black corded hooks; one of Jarlaxle's usual gifts he enjoyed lavishing on his less stylish companions with deep pockets of holding that concealed a long dagger at each hip.

He came to the main stairwell and descended to the basement floor, where he stepped off and made a straight line for an arched, black door at the end of the hall. The door was not meant to be hidden, it was meant to tell all that this was an exclusive area; the private bathing room of the guildmaster. Bani Pilazi never left his own spacious apartment in a hidden corner of the castle to visit it; he had his own luxurious baths and enough bed slaves to bathe him. Instead he tossed the magical keys to his lieutenant (and main rival, and acting guildmaster) Artemis Entreri, who could have cared less about the place. Drizzt and Jarlaxle found the two keys idly thrown at them with Entreri's passing grunt of "Just clean up after yourselves." Since then he and the older drow took turns with the room; Drizzt had little desire to think on what Jarlaxle did with the bath, though he could assume as much. Usually Drizzt used it as a place of relaxation, though he did bring the occasional whore in there.

Tonight, however, did not involve any whores but one priest; Mazn'reysla requested a night to use the bath and have Drizzt over…for his own special purpose. Drizzt approached the door with a little more enthusiasm mixed with a tiny amount of apprehension. Ever since that one night in Cormanthor a month ago, ever since he first allowed another male to take his body, his relationship with Mazn'reysla had been more than a little interesting. There had been many more nights after that; some nights he thrusted into the cleric with gleeful abandon, while others he was content to lay on his back and be pleased. Some nights he would be sitting in a chair in the guildhouse and Maz would appear to give a few greetings, unstring Drizzt's trousers, massage his…aches with his hand or tongue, and walk away with a polite farewell. Both had walked away from encounters with small bruises, long scratches, bite marks, and large smiles. Straps and whips, however, were a taboo topic; bringing up painful memories of both their brutal, Menzoberranzyr childhoods. Tonight Mazn'reysla mentioned something about an experiment, something a little different for a change. Tonight would only be interesting.

Drizzt drew the simple, iron key from his robe pocket and put it in a small notch in the door that looked like nothing more than a knot in the wood and twisted it counterclockwise twice. The door promptly sunk in and swung open with a small touch. Drizzt walked through the door and closed it behind him, hearing the click of the self-fastening latch. He walked through a small, dark corridor before the hall opened up to the huge room in front of him.

It was the typical bath of someone like Bani Pilazi; an old Calishite who wanted to display his wealth and not his style sense. The entire walls were draped in red velvet wallpaper and festoons of gold silk that made his eyes ache. A few glass sculptures of flaming balls protruded from the wall glowing a pulsating red and yellow light that gave a bright hue to the room. Many gold cupboards filled with various wines and other illicit substances from exotic locations lined the wall as well as the occasional statue of a gold mermaid squeezing her breasts with her mouth gaping open in orgasmic ecstasy, a gold centaur stroking his own genitalia, or a gold…anything. Drizzt could never pry the image of the actual creature being dipped in molten gold out of his head whenever he entered this place; the poor creature would be naked and frozen by some magic into their obscenely seductive position. It was a rather amusing, yet somewhat unpleasant thought that he would never put past old man Pilazi or anyone with whom he associated.

The drow's gaze fell to the bath itself; a large, rectangular mass that composed the whole center of the room. The pool was composed of rare white marble speckled with naturally occurring gold flakes. A small spring from under the guildhouse provided the green water, though one enchantment kept the bath at a constant steaming temperature and another kept the water rippling with bubbles. A series of command words would be said to increase or decrease the pace of the bubbling. There was also another enchantment that purified the water, cleansing it of any spilled blood, semen, or any other substance that could provide a sanitation problem.

Drizzt already felt himself sweat the second he walked into the room, all the while watching the thick cloud of vapor waft from the water and hang over the bottom of the room like a fog. He looked through the haze and pinpointed the black form of Mazn'reysla reclining in the water. Drizzt had made a copy of the key and given it to the cleric, who was unofficially a member of the guild through his various healing spells and the occasional arcane mission. He looked at the wizard-cleric and met his gaze; those beaming red eyes already boring through his soul as his champagne blond hair floated lazily in the water like puffy seaweed. Drizzt gave him a feral grin, slowly opening his robe to reveal his naked, anxious form. The robe slid off his tightly muscled arms and onto the marble floor as he slowly walked forward…and caught the sight of someone else…another drow walking into the water with a wine bottle and giving him a blank gaze of recognition.

Drizzt furrowed his brows in slight confusion, noting the new drow's unusual, pitch black hair still slightly matted over his bare shoulders as his deep yellow eyes looked at him in something resembling curiosity. The ranger forced a smirk as seeing Jarlaxle's regular associate, the psionic tailor Jakadirek, who casually turn his eyes from him and walk into the water beside Mazn'reysla. Maz's mouth turned up into a beaming smile as he looked at Drizzt, then the tailor who casually took a seat beside him. The cleric's fingers found their way into Jaka's hair as the habitually, yet frighteningly nonchalant drow uncorked the bottle with his fine fingers and poured the deep, red liquid into two, black stone goblets. Jaka then lifted his glass and took a sip, not looking at Mazn'reysla, who still ran his fingers through his black hair or Drizzt. He merely looked down at the pure, green water wrapped with fascination with how it bubbled.

Drizzt was familiar with Jakadirek; the quiet tailor had made a few fine outfits for him from leathers and skins of an origin he could only guess that all bore psionic resistance to blades and psychic attacks. It was said the young drow was a devout follower of Lolth, though his manner towards the Vhaeraunites was always polite. Drizzt figured it was probably a faith that had been beaten into him from birth and never shaken off, as was the case with many male drow; only others found a place for their forced faith in breaking apart heretics with a sword or spell. Jakadirek, however, struck Drizzt as a different species altogether, maybe a milder and much more sadistic soul. He had to admit the tailor fascinated him on a couple levels.

He couldn't say he was surprised to see him here…completely nude and sitting in a pool next to Mazn'reysla, whose own nakedness was clearly illustrated in the clear water, as well as his own physical desperation.

"So this is your experiment?" Drizzt asked walking forward and down the marble stairs leading into the water.

"This is my guest," Mazn'reysla replied, continuing to pat Jaka's hair as if he were a furry pet. "Jakadirek had produced masterful garments for us at the utmost expense of his talents. The least I can do is show him a little gratitude. Are you enjoying yourself Jaka?"

Jaka idly sipped his wine, giving his full attention to the goblet.

"Yes," he said in his usual, plain speech.

The tailor looked idly at Drizzt, who couldn't help but imagine him as some kind of quiet animal whose claws always spoke for him. Jaka tried not to make his gaze linger too long, for fear that it may be seen as some sort of threat; he was hardly in the mood for a fight, though given what he heard of this one, anything might set off his bloodlust. It was all his eyes could manage for not after consuming nearly half a bottle of surface wine while waiting for the rogue's arrival; an overly sweet beverage for which he knew he would never acquire a taste. As he drank, he shared the bottle with Mazn'reysla, who was mostly quiet save for the occasional philosophical statement that seemed to have no root in religious matters at all.

Jaka returned his wandering gaze to the swirling contents of his goblet, noting how the deep red mingled with the pitch black of the cup like bloody waves. He allowed his small body to sink against the smooth marble and further into the warm, green water while feeling the cleric's pointed fingers knead into his scalp. It was…comfort; a small feeling slowly sprouting in his numb form despite the dangerous rogue in front of him.

His eyes trailed up to Drizzt again, who looked at him with a semi-amused expression; those fascinating lavender eyes taking on a twinkle. It was a treat in and of itself to see the great Drizzt Do'Urden sitting in the water completely nude; his armor and those famous scimitars in some other location. He looked vulnerable, a vision that fascinated Jaka; just one blade or one psychic pierce through that perfect, ebony skin and he would bleed. Jaka bore no desire to mar the rogue, as long as matters stayed peaceful between them. He was in a calm sort of awe over the famous rogue. Here, he almost looked real.

Drizzt gave a stiff smile and stared at the tailor; an icy lavender gaze meant to test his fear, though the tailor gave his usual quick glance. Sizing up the drow was like examining the base physical reactions of animals; his face was perpetually blank, though his muscles betrayed legitimate calm. This one was indeed interesting.

Mazn'reysla analyzed every glance between the two, every twitch of facial muscles, and every ease of muscles and his grin widened. He rested his head on Jakadirek's black shoulder, his wet mane spilling down the tailor's chest and adding a perfect contrast to his long, black hair. The smell of rich, spiced Calimshan wine exuded from his even breaths and seemed to match his soft, warm skin.

Jaka looked over at the blond hair trailing down his shoulder. Without a conscious thought, he raised a finger and delicately stroked the locks of pale yellow. He had seen very few drow with this hair color; he wanted to feel its texture to find if it differed from that of usual drow hair. Maybe it could be a new material for braided fringe or lace, though its frequency was likely scarce. This would definitely merit further inquiry later.

Maz leaned further over and allowed Jaka full access to his hair, which prompted a small chuckle from Drizzt, who rose from the water and walked over to a nearby cabinet, opening the gilded doors carved with palm trees, and picking out a bottle of Turmish Red before walking back to the pool. Mazn'reysla gave his own laugh in response; both knew this wasn't an expression of affection of passion, but perhaps market research. It only added to Jakadirek's own unique intrigue.

"I have learned not to see individuals by their station," the cleric practically cooed; a common nod to Vhaeraun's more egalitarian nature that was perfectly snuck in. "I could never see him as merely a tailor. Instead I see him as…beautiful. Don't you agree, Drizzt?"

Drizzt leaned back against the marble, absorbing the steaming water while giving another deep look at Jaka and idly uncorking the wine with his fingers and sipping directly from the bottle. Maz was gradually getting closer and closer to the tailor, all the while giving Drizzt a mischievous eye. He was obviously trying to test him in the simplest way possible by trying to make him jealous, or even to see if that was an emotion that still existed in the emotionally unstable ranger's vocabulary.

In truth, it barely existed at all, though there was a small pang he wanted to hide away. A tenday after having no one else but Mazn'reysla, he returned to Baldur's Gate and took a tavern whore and only realized after he was through with her that it meant something. Mazn'reysla had the potential to become a serious lover, a state that he had no need for now. It was the death of his last serious lover that drove him insane; which was exactly the game strategy the cleric was using now and looking amused that this moment that only fazed the fallen ranger for a brief second.

Drizzt leaned forward, his momentary apprehension replaced with intrigue as he unapologetically ogled both drow. He had never considered the physical beauty of males until now, thought that said little since he had not even considered the physical beauty of females until the past couple years. He examined the tailor's young, blank face and the way his black hair framed his innocent features. He was a dangerous animal, the absolute best kind. Lavender eyes trailed down to his well toned chest, indicating him to have at least a small bit of martial training etched in his muscle tone. Further down into the water was his phallus; relatively average sized, though betraying his hidden emotions with Mazn'reysla's finger trailing over the lower portion of his collarbone. The cleric was obviously avoiding the tailor's black corded necklace, likely treating it as some kind of magic item of an importance only Maz understood. Once again, the tailor's own body was betraying him. Having this form beside the cleric only enhanced his interest; the one for whom he felt the smallest pang affection was cuddling up to another beautiful drow. He knew he should be jealous, though it was having the exact opposite effect.

What struck Drizzt the most was the perfect contrast between the two; both bearing slight, yet tone physiques. Both had the faces of fallen angels with beaming, curious eyes that hid a cornucopia of cruelty. He saw pure, obsidian flesh before him; one smiling drow marked with champagne-blond hair and huge, deep red eyes and his blank-faced companion with hair as black as his own skin and eyes like beams of yellow. Drizzt sipped his wine and savored the unusual looking drow sitting in front of him. He gave a small chuckle, especially considering his own purple eyes scanning them both. What a patchwork swath of dark elf kind these three were.

"Yes," Drizzt said with a nod, watching Mazn'reysla's hand trail down his chest and idly brush against a nipple, which hardened at the touch, "he is quite beautiful."

Jaka did not protest the touch; it actually pleased him. The cleric noted the relaxed expression on the tailor's face, taking that as permission to move forward. His finger lightly brushed again over the soft, ebony skin and trailed to Jaka's nipple. He brushed the black bud at first, then gently squeezed and produced a gentle, yet heavy exhalation. Maz looked back at Drizzt, whose eyes were also locked on the same point. This was not making him jealous at all; instead it was titillating him. The good boy had come a long way.

Maz smiled wider, a finger lightly trailing down Jaka's chest and across his tight stomach muscles. The tailor sipped his wine casually, though Drizzt swore he saw his muscles tremble slightly, though that could have been a figment of his own imagination. He was enjoying this. The cleric's slender fingers drummed over his lower abdomen and disappeared under the water, though Drizzt could see one finger busy at work.

Jaka took another deep sip of his fifth glass of wine, allowing the warm comfort of the alcohol to embrace him as did the hand of the cleric, which gradually wrapped around his being and gently squeezed.

"I am going to kiss him, Drizzt," Mazn'reysla said teasingly. "How would you like that?"

Drizzt eased back, his eyes locked on the hand under the water as a wide smile crept over his face. Mazn'reysla smiled back, turning his face up and immediately locking his lips with Jaka's in a moist, gentle kiss. Jaka matched the press with his own gentle passion, savoring Mazn'reysla'a tongue lightly brushing against his lips. Jaka opened his own mouth and let his tongue crawl out and play along.

Maz turned his head slightly to see Drizzt's eager look.

"I would like to see how far this goes, Drizzt," the cleric sighed. "What would you like to see?"

Drizzt gave a dirty chuckle, feeling particularly daring.

"I want to see him fuck you," Drizzt replied without a beat, his lips in a sneer. "I want to see him ram it up your ass, make you his toy."

It was a bold dare, though Drizzt was never an enthusiast for subtlety. If Jaka was scared off or Maz was offended in any way, at least all the cleric's dramatics would be shoved in his face. Drizzt knew he would not go for this; being taken by a Spider Kisser was likely on the list of the vilest…

"If you insist," Mazn'reysla responded with a fake pout covering a smile.

Jaka looked at Drizzt, then the cleric, wondering what he had gotten himself into, though he did enjoy a unique situation. Here was a priest of Vhaeraun, the lover of Menzoberranzan's most hated renegade, asking for him to take him. And Drizzt's wide eyes and eager grin told he was enjoying all of it. His bitch of an aunt would hate this…

Mazn'reysla kissed him with more fervor, his hand squeezing harder. He was ready for this now. Jakadirek gently grabbed Mazn'reysla's shoulders and turned his back to him. Mazn'reysla slowly reached into a small compartment on the edge of the bath, producing a round bottle containing a thick, greenish liquid he had stowed there ahead of time; producing another chuckle form Drizzt. He had indeed prepared. Maz pushed the bottle into Jaka's hand. Jaka popped the cork off the bottle, methodically emptying a small amount in his palm. He reached under the water and spread the orchid oil over himself before carefully putting the bottle on the edge of the bath. Drizzt marveled at how precise and careful his actions were, as if he were doing a routine act like brushing his hair. The look in his eyes, however, suggested something a little more interesting.

Mazn'reysla arched his back forward and took a comfortable grip on the marble, a huge smile still plastered on his face. Jaka grabbed the cleric's shoulders and slowly began a small, tentative thrust that became steadily more rapid. Maz gave out a happy sigh, closing his eyes and savoring the gentle sensation becoming more violent. Jaka's fingernails dug into his partner's shoulder as he pulled him in deeper, though making no noise; no sigh, no moans, not even a stray grunt.

Drizzt leaned forward and allowed his eyes to drink in the whole scene, suddenly realizing he was grabbing his wine bottle harder by the neck. They were two, small, odd-looking creatures engaged in this violent ecstasy. The only noises that came from either of them were the sound of their breathing becoming a bit heavier mingled with the splash of the water. He suddenly realized that this whole scene was more like a bizarre fantasy than an emotional test.

Jaka's breathing became heavier, his slender, coal black hands finding their way to Mazn'reysla's long, blond hair and clutching on and yanking hard. His lips found their way to the cleric's neck, which he started biting hard as if he were a vampire who had lost his fangs. He was like a wild animal; though a controlled wild animal and a beauty to behold. Mazn'reysla kept his grip on the edge of the tub, though he let his body hang loose savored the every thrust, which filled him up perfectly and matched every wide bite and pull. He was letting himself be pleasured.

His thoughts were practically nonexistent, Jaka read as he scanned his partner's surface thoughts. Instead he caught a peace he had never read in another drow, though his thoughts occasionally seemed to moan for him. He was almost at a perfect center, something else he would have to study later. Mazn'reysla was proving to be one of the most fascinating lovers he had ever had; a drow whose thought processes seemed completely different from the rest of his kind. He was becoming more study material than instrument of pleasure, though sometimes the two were one in the same

Mazn'reysla opened his eyes and looked over at Drizzt and saw only eagerness. He was concerned he would be jealous; that ancient honor still not scrubbed from his soul. Instead his smile was wide and his lavender eyes only seemed to dance. Drizzt met his gaze and smiled wider. His right hand then casually splashed in the water, though under the green water, he could see the warrior's hand wrap around his own fleshy sword and begin to rub. The cleric smiled wider, leaning back and gently nibbling Jaka's jaw.

Jaka leaned against his partner's ear and whispered something out of Drizzt's hearing range, though the tone was still usually matter-of-fact. Mazn'reysla smiled and nodded. The tailor concentrated, enacting a mild, psionic link between the two to share sensations. A second later, Maz let out a deep moan. Jaka's hand trailed to his own neck, tracing his own collarbone around the black corded necklace. The cleric sighed harder, his flesh trembling as the tailor's fingernails raked over his own shoulder. Maz let out a deeper moan that became longer and more passioned. Drizzt leaned back, seeing that something unique had transpired between the two, maybe even a psionic linking. It became more obvious when Jaka sunk his black fingernails deep into the flesh on the side of his neck, drawing a small amount of blood. Maz gasped as his neck twitched for a second, a sensation he immensely enjoyed.

Mazn'reysla's moans started becoming louder, a reaction Drizzt had never seen from him before. For a second he almost felt jealous, but continued his own enjoyment of the scene, a sigh slipping past his own lips. He sat back, enveloped in the warm water, stroking his own sensitive flesh and feeling his own pleasure rising as he watched the two; the violent thrust and bite of the young psionic and the screams of the usually stoic cleric, whoes eyelids fluttered in pure ecstacy. This was meditation for him, physical pleasure of a kind he had never experienced.

Mazn'reysla screamed louder, letting out a few animalistic growls before doubling over and releasing. Jaka gave a few more violent thrusts, prompting a few uncomfortable shudders from the cleric before his passion was met. He gradually withdrew and slowly lowered himself to a sit in the tub. Mazn'reysla continued leaning over the side, letting out a few residual pants that turned into a shrill cackle. The after reactions from both were as exciting as watching the act itself. Drizzt gave a few more intense squeezes before knowing his own satisfaction as he gave a long sigh.

Jakadirek watched him curiously, resting for a second, before slowly rising from the tub.

"I thank you for this experience," Jaka said plainly, his voice mingled with heavy breaths.

Maz let out another sighing cackle while plopping into the water with a splash.

"No, I am the one who should do the thanking," the cleric replied. "You should teach Drizzt that trick sometime."

Drizzt felt mildly stung by that remark, though shrugged it off quickly. He merely smiled and let out his own laugh. Jaka's eyes trailed to his and the two were locked in a stare for a short while. Drizzt smiled and clapped his hands.

"A fine performance," he said, though for some reason he knew this would have some far reaching effects for pain or pleasure.

Jaka breathed a small sigh of relief…and further enjoyment of this whole bizarre scene.


	3. Three: Simple Comfort

**The Cruelest Fate**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

Author's Note: This chapter was literally written in two hours with no beforehand plotting. It was inspired by Valentine's Day and contains a lot of evil mush. If anyone can interpret this, I would love to hear it.

**Chapter 3: Simple Comforts**

"What is all this," Drizzt said, cocking an eyebrow at the spread before him.

Mazn'reysla merely smiled, taking a look down at his little project.

The small table in Drizzt's treehouse was covered in a cloth of black linen. A gaudy, brass vase adorned with multicolored gems obviously cut from glass was set in the middle, a bunch of tiny, of blue and white wild flowers resting inside. A few tall candles dripped black wax on the cloth, which also rested two simple wooden trenchers. Placed perfectly on each trencher was a sugared pear covered in honey and wild blueberries. A simple glass of what looked like white surface wine was placed next to the trenchers.

Drizzt gave a sly smile and looked at Mazn'reysla's red, cotton robe. His champagne-blond hair was neatly strewn over his shoulders with a few braids dangling over his innocent, ebony face.

"Is this your way of being romantic?" Drizzt asked, leaning against the doorway and crossing his arms.

"Consider this an exercise in simple warmth," Maz replied, walking forward. "A celebration of affection; a way to warm the heart in the middle of the cold winter.

Drizzt smiled, though a part of him could not help but be a bit uncomfortable, almost as if he was entertaining a favorite mistress. That was, however, how the high priest had become to him in the past month. At first he was comfortable with the situation, but after he took a whore in Baldur's Gate, the emotion became a bit more complicated. When Drizzt watched Mazn'reysla be taken by Jarlaxle's associate Jaka, it was titillating at first, but the experience created a slow sting.

He didn't want to admit anything to himself, but for some reason Drizzt often thought of Maz as his own; his close friend, his counselor, the most willing way to release any sexual frustrations.

"It is very charming," Drizzt replied with an uncomfortable smirk.

Maz looked at him, those beaming eyes boring through his soul. It was a long look that was even more uncomfortable than others he had received.

"I thought it would make a nice change of pace," the high priest said. "That is what true lovers do besides fucking each other; sit down, have a nice dinner, savor each other's company."

Drizzt gave a long sigh. Why in the Hells was he drudging this up now?

"Relax a little, Drizzt," Maz said in a tone that suddenly turned dark. "I am not asking you to marry me. I am just asking you for a little time."

Drizzt bit his lower lip, noticing the almost hurt look in Mazn'reysla's eyes. He forced a smile and walked forward, looking down at the dripping fruit below.

"It's not poisoned," Maz said, his tone a bit lighter yet no less hurt.

"I never suggested it was," Drizzt replied.

He pulled a simple chair from the table and sat down, smelling the hot honey as it wafted from the pear. He then looked back up at Mazn'reysla, who was now smiling brightly.

That smug little bastard, Drizzt thought. He knew full well Mazn'reysla had interpreted every one of these expressions since he was now grinning.

The high priest pulled out the adjacent seat and sat down. He then raised a small fork from the table, took on a small chunk of juicy pear, and put it in his mouth; clearly chewing and swallowing so Drizzt would be sure it wasn't poisoned.

Drizzt noted every action before taking the fork and taking his own, succulent bite. He paused for a second to savor the perfect sweetness juice pouring from every bit, looking up to see Maz taking a long sip of his wine and licking his lips softly.

"Did you make this?" Drizzt asked, lifting his own glass and taking a sip of the dry wine.

"When I first came to the Surface I started experimenting with its fruits," Mazn'reysla said. "I started stealing fruits from farmers' fields and learned how to coax bees into surrendering their juices. One can do amazing things with so little."

"This is delicious," Drizzt replied with a smile, looking up into the high priests large, red eyes and noting how the simple, orange glow from the two candles danced in them.

He looked back to his wine glass and felt a soft caress against his leg. Mazn'reysla was soon massaging his leather-clad shin with his small foot. The caress felt good. Combined with the sweet fruit and the calm lighting, he was starting to feel relaxed.

"How do you feel about me truly?" Maz asked.

A few drops of wine missed Drizzt's mouth at this sudden development. He only paused for half a second, feeling his mind could best communicate when unprepared.

"You are comfort to me," he said, allowing his mind to express itself in the most honest way.

Maz raised an eyebrow, obviously intrigued.

"A comfort?" he asked with a smile.

"A comfort," Drizzt repeated definitely. "You are…a friend to me. You are also wisdom."

"Though you do not trust me."

"No," Drizzt replied, looking Maz straight in the eyes.

"I don't expect you to," the cleric replied.

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because you want to. Because you want something to trust, though you have been given no reason to trust anything; not companions, not beliefs, not even yourself."

"Do you trust me?"

"No," Maz replied with a chilling certainty. "Though I am dangerously close."

"Why?"

"Because I want something to trust too."

Drizzt nodded, taking another bite and pondering the situation.

"What do you think of me truly?" he asked, his cold lavender eyes meeting Mazn'reysla's.

Mazn'reysla gave him a thoughtful look.

"I see the purest, tortured chaos in a swirl of pure beauty," he replied. "You are like a black rose glowing in its own darkness, though you notice not your own petals."

"Fancy yourself a poet?" Drizzt asked in a more caustic tone than he had meant.

"I fancy myself a keeper of ideas," Mazn'reysla replied, lifting his glass and taking a long sip of wine. "I believe the true role of a cleric, regardless of what god or goddess he or she serves, is a keeper of truest mysteries which becomes a filter on perceptions. I personally believe that bards are only showpieces and spellcasters hurlers of energy they do not understand. Those who dedicate their lives to the divine have a unique perspective on things to say the least."

"What of mere sword swingers?"

"They have the potential to be blind or all seeing. You take that how you will."

Drizzt shrugged and took another bite.

"You are comfort to me," Mazn'reysla said. "You always have been."

"Think about me during lonely nights in Sorcere?" Drizzt said with a dirty laugh.

Maz snickered.

"Yes, you speak the truth," the cleric said in an amused, yet defeated tone.

Drizzt smiled, looking back at the candlelight reflection in Maz's red eyes. He tapped his fingers on the table, then walked them over to Mazn'reysla's hand. One finger gently caressed the soft, black flesh and Maz visibly relaxed.

"Is it all just about sex with you?" the cleric asked.

Drizzt wanted to come up with a snide retort, but he wasn't in the mood. Instead he decided to try honesty.

"You are comfort to me," Drizzt said. "That's all I can say. Take that how you will."

Mazn'reysla smiled, giving him a warm look. He then lifted his fork and took another bite. A small bit of honey dripped on his hand. Drizzt looked down at the tiny spot on the back of the cleric's hand, then raised it gently. His tongue ventured out and he tasted the honey on his lover's soft flesh as his lips gently pressed against the skin.

"Do you love me, Drizzt?" the cleric asked.

Drizzt stopped, though still clutched his hand.

"You are a comfort to me," he repeated with a matter-of-fact look. "That is all I will say."

Maz smiled, receiving the answer he wanted.

"Now the question is," Drizzt said, "do you love me?"

Maz gazed at him, lifting his hand, and gently kissing his fingers.

"You know the answer to that," he said.

Drizzt nodded. Maz kissed his fingers again and suddenly rose. He dropped Drizzt's hand and started walking toward the door.

"Stay," Drizzt called.

"Why?" Mazn'reysla replied, not looking back. "So we can rip each other's clothes off and make a split second decision who will take the other like we always do?"

Drizzt sighed hard, throwing down his fork.

"It's a game with you isn't it?" the fallen ranger asked.

"It's all just about instant gratification with you, isn't it?" Maz said, slowly turning around and looking right into Drizzt's eyes. "If you can't kill it or fuck it, you don't care about it. Considering that I was never your beloved father's friend or your former mortal enemy, you see me as no higher than a whore."

Drizzt clenched a part of the black tablecloth in his fist, biting his lower lip with a long, harsh sigh. Maz looked at him, savoring his obvious anger. He knew going further was dangerous, but he knew Drizzt too well.

"Of course I speak out of ignorance," the cleric continued, walking toward Drizzt. "I can't imagine what it is like to shut out all thoughts lest they destroy me. I don't know what it's like to just stop thinking and live as an instinctual animal."

Drizzt turned his gaze down for a second before looking back up with a defeated smirk. Mazn'reysla read all of it perfectly.

"You forgot to mention how it feels to have your thoughts shut out lest they destroy you," Drizzt replied.

Maz cocked an eyebrow, knowing Drizzt was just beginning to let something out.

"Do you know what it's like to think too much?" the ranger continued, taking his glass in his hand and taking a sip. "Allow your mind to become so involved in your own conscious thoughts that you start believing your own fantasies? Do you know what it's like to force your brain into a pattern of thought it thinks is one part knows is the best course of action while a tiny section completely disagrees?"

"Like convincing yourself you are something you are not?" Maz replied, knowing the exact words. "Torturing yourself into only believing one truth about the universe until that tiny, oppressed part of your brain stages a rebellion?"

Drizzt smiled.

"Believe me," Maz replied, turning around again, "you will learn to think."

Without another word, he walked from the door, leaving Drizzt to regard the empty space with a sad smile before draining his glass and grabbing the bottle on the table.

He would drink a quarter of the contents before stripping and roughly settling in his cot for Reverie. The candles slowly burned themselves out while the food lay untouched on the table. He would lie in bed, then sit up and attempt to enter Trance, though his body protested.

At last he lie down and felt the specter of Trance upon him, just before feeling warm breath against his face.

"So are we going to just fuck each other now?" Drizzt said, slowly opening his eyes and seeing Mazn'reysla kneeling beside him, his robes open to reveal his bare form.

The cleric gave his usual smile. Drizzt sighed, closed his eyes, and laid his head back while throwing the green blanket off his naked form. The first thing he felt was warm, moist lips pressing against his; a soft sensation that made him relax. His tongue gently came from his mouth and passed between the cleric's lips.

With his eyes still closed, he felt the soft press of a body against him; blanketing his form in a warmth he instantly savored. He experienced Mazn'reysla's bare flesh, feeling his own cold body warming with the soft caress. A slender hand caressed his jaw and ran through his white hair. He felt the cleric's other hand gently massaging his eager phallus before pressing himself against him and lying over him like a blanket, his legs twisting around his pelvis as he rubbed gently. The heat grew between them.

Drizzt opened his eyes and met Mazn'reysla's soft, red gaze and feeling his desperate breath hot against his face. His hands raked through those unusual blond locks while pressing his lips against his lover's innocent face. As the press became greater and the heart in their bodies grew, Drizzt laid his head back against the pillow and looked up at Mazn'reysla's gaze.

"Do you know what comforts me, Drizzt Do'Urden?" Maz asked between deep sighs.

Drizzt felt the heat in his lower body rise with the increased press. Maz's hand increased the rush as his other hand caressed his muscled chest and arms. Drizzt smiled, hearing nothing more from Mazn'reysla than his steady breathing.

Drizzt wrapped his arms around Mazn'reysla's body and pressed him in further. The heat rose, but he allowed himself to enjoy it. This wasn't a moment of one trying to take the other. It wasn't just about physical pleasure. It was about savoring Mazn'reysla, everything he was.

Mazn'reysla pressed harder, the rush between them growing. Slender, elven hands caressed ebony flesh on which a slick of salty perspiration had formed. Drizzt pressed his face against Mazn'reysla's shoulder and let out a series of harsh breaths that turned into groans. He felt Maz shudder, then release, a sensation that triggered his own intense rush.

The two paused, savoring each other's bodies for a blissful moment before Mazn'reysla lifted up, both gazing into each other's eyes.

Drizzt was tempted to say something, yet no words came out; only a happy, sighing laugh. Maz smiled wide and caressed his hair gently.

A moment of perfect comfort.


	4. Four: Rains

**The Cruelest Fate**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

Author's Note: This story is officially a series of episodes written when I especially feel like writing in this. I realized I have not written a scene between Drizzt and Maz in a long time, that and I listened to Marilyn Manson's song "Spade" (the song title actually being the card symbol for spade, but anyway...) which I have always connected with their relationship, so I finally had to put that on paper.

**Chapter 4: Rains**

_Burn your empty rain down on me. Whisper your deathbeat so softly. We bend our knees At the altar of my ego. _

_You drained my heart, and made a spade. There's still traces of me in your veins._

-Marilyn Manson, "Spade"

Drizzt was running though the woods, the twigs breaking under his feet matching the sounds of his laughs as he sprinted through the mist-veiled woodland.

Catti-brie was laughing as well, her voice music matching the song of the wind through the trees. She was wearing her simple brown leather trousers and that long, white shirt she loved to wear during off times. She called back a few taunts about being faster than an elf, inspiring Drizzt to quicken his pace a little. At last he was gaining on her.

He reached forward, two fingers catching her flowing tunic briefly before she laughed harder and pulled away, though her pace was slowed. At last Drizzt caught more of his energy, jumping forward and grabbing throwing his arms around her waist. She gave a light scream before doubling over in laughter finally allowing her husband to grab hold of her.

Drizzt said something to her, but the words were lost in the wind. Her muscles tensed from laughing so hard though she finally calmed down and started to turn around. Catti-brie's face turned around and greeted him with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. Her beautiful blue eyes gazed into his with the aura of purest love as she looked upon her husband, leaned in, and pressed her lips to his.

Drizzt was enveloped in the warmest, most tender moment he had ever known…warm as the flowing wetness down his hands. He gradually looked up and saw Catti-brie's beautiful blue eyes well with streams of blood as blood poured from her nose and the smiling corners of her mouth. The hole in her neck deepened and gushed forth until her head collapsed from her neck and her body burst into flames.

The only sound he heard then was his own scream, which turned into a series of wails. He fell to the hard floor and clutched the wood, almost trying to force his fingers through it.

His wailing stopped, turning into a few harsh sobs that gradually lessened in intensity. He sighed, and looked up to see large drops of water plummeting off the wooden roof of his treehouse. Upon cloer inspection, the entire woodland was surrounded by a misty fog, the wet, yet cool air sneaking past the leather tarp he used for a door and awakened his senses a little more.

Whatever was out there was likely infinitely better than here, he thought.

---------------------

Drizzt occasionally had moments like this.

He sat in the high wet grass feeling the dew and remnants of the rain gradually seeping into his leather trousers. It was a comforting feeling, the feeling of the wet against his skin, the sound of the last drops of the storm pelting the grass and occasionally his hot face; soothing and unnerving at the same time.

The River Duathamper flowed a few inches from his bare feet, the heavy rain of the past tenday making the current strong enough to wash a small humanoid away if he were to just wade right in and allow himself to be taken out.

Drizzt gave a painful chuckle at the thought, merely keeping his eyes closed and letting the spring wind brush against his face. He was alone, or at least was under that impression. Even if a goodly assassin was waiting to spring, he couldn't have cared less. All he cared about was the lack of shouts, rustling of feet, and very aura of any sentient creatures around him at all.

For all he knew, Drizzt was completely alone; a comforting and crushing sensation all at the same time. He concentrated on the rush of the river, the rain pelting the grass, the gentle wind fighting the sticky air, and all the wet greenery around him. He managed a smile, feeling at one with the ground for at least a moment.

I'm sure she would appreciate you doing this, a small voice whispered in his mind, becoming one with the forest at last.

His eyes shot open as he growled, smacking the ground and flinching with a sudden sting. Drizzt didn't even bother looking down, instead he squeezed his injured hand and felt the thick warmth slowly ooze down; the most comforting sensation he had known in the past few hours.

He finally managed to open his hand and look down to see his dark-gray palm with a small stream of blood running down the center; the remains of a small twig embedded in the flesh between his index and middle finger. He examined the wound idly, thinking that he had reached to take the twig out, though such an event never occurred. Instead he sat, squeezing his hand harder and savoring the sting and the warm ooze flowing from his hand.

It was a source of concentration for him, the swirling mess inside his brain focused a little more.

Drizzt occasionally had moments like these; moments where the chaos and death he surrounded himself with occasionally swirled in a storm against him, catching him and every part of his being in the cyclone.

Though tonight there was one more factor, the spark in the smokepowder keg and it was the images he tried to block out yet decided to plague him tonight of all nights.

He concentrated on the heated air coming out of his lungs and making a thick vapor with the colder atmosphere. He would then take a gulping breath in, finally trying to find a little more focus though it was hardly working.

Drizzt stared at his hand, his other one coming forward and squeezing the palm slowly, sending out more cleansing pain and more of the warm blood. The twig then popped out, much to his chagrin. He continued squeezing his hand, the blood now a thick clot and the ache leaving…that was until the tip of a dagger was at the wound. It opened a little more then and more of the comforting blood leaked out.

He pressed harder, the ache even more pleasing and the blood was rushing down his hand in its own little river matching the white one flowing at his feet with drops down his hand like the steadier drops over the world.

You need that hand, you know, a tiny portion of sanity called in the furthest reaches of his brain. If Artemis saw you doing this he'd beat the ever-living hells out of you for giving into your weakness, if he didn't cripple you further.

The thought was reinforced by a slender ebony hand brushing the blade away. Before Drizzt knew what had happened, his arm was by his side as was the utility dagger. He managed to look up and see two small drow hands cupping his injured palm as a soft, shadowy glow emanated from them, closing the wound.

Drizzt knew who this was, yet a part of him didn't care. He merely sat, savoring the wetness of the grass while feeling the comfort of his numbness. At last a pair of large, ruby eyes was gazing into his framed by soft, champagne-blond hair. Drizzt sighed, breaking his numbness enough to register Mazn'reysla's scolding…concerned?...gaze. He looked disappointed, yet almost…loving?

One hand gently traveled from his palm and cupped the side of his hot face. The cleric leaned in further, letting his lips rub gently against his cheek.

"Wake up, _khal abbil,_" Mazn'reysla's gentle voice sounded through his soul.

Drizzt looked at him cautiously. He was a cruel, capricious drow; the servant of a trickster god…and the warmest creature in his vicinity. Drizzt's perpetually armed guard lowered a little. If he meant to kill him, that was acceptable, instead he needed shelter from his own storm and any would do no matter how unreliable it may have been in reality.

Drizzt allowed his muscles to relax, collapsing forward into Mazn'reysla's arms, which wrapped around him; one hand gently caressing down the length of his bare back. Drizzt buried his head into the soft, gray robes and expected tears to come, though they were replaced by a heavy sigh.

His cheek rubbed against Mazn'reysla's and he locked him into a violent, passionate kiss; scraping his teeth against his lip and tasting the metallic salt of blood. It mattered not, he continued pressing in, forcing his tongue between his soft lips. Mazn'reysla was compliant and he swore he heard a happy sigh.

Drizzt took that as an invitation to continue further. He grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in, his hands coming to the collar of his robes and forcing them open. The cleric did little, just made a few more happy sighs as he gently laid Drizzt's back on the ground.

By now his robe was a pile on the grass and he felt the scrape of the natural cotton in his trousers against his skin as they were practically ripped down. Mazn'reysla gently kicked them off and picked at the strings of his partner's trousers as he groped every part of his nude body, scraping his short fingernails hard over his backside.

The cleric peeled his simply tanned trousers off, Drizzt feeling the sear of the wet material practically peeled off his skin. He clutched the cleric tighter, running his fingernails down his back and suddenly realizing his partner had stopped moving.

Drizzt slowly pulled away and looked up incredulously. Mazn'reysla was looking down at him, keeping him in a gentle grip yet not moving. Instead the light in his eyes danced a bit more, though he made no more movements. Drizzt was about to clasp onto him again, though his brain thought the better of it; it was a principle that surpassed any he had ever held.

Instead he took a few more deep breaths, staring into Mazn'reysla's patient eyes and forcing his muscles to unclench. The heat in his groin was a roaring fire, yet he felt a long draw of cool air draw into his lungs. He held onto the air for a second, then slowly let it out as his muscles finally relaxed.

The two locked stares, Mazn'reysla's calm pushing into him deep. The sudden relax of his facial features told the cleric much. Mazn'reysla let the moment linger; the juicy, perfectly calm moment between one act of passion and another. He was watching a dangerous, chaotic creature take a few breathes before taking his prey, savoring the moment before it was spent.

Maz smiled, caressing Drizzt's ebony, rain-streaked. The ranger gently moved his head lower, caressing the hand with his lips and drinking in every ounce of him. The cleric slowly moved his hands over his lover's muscled body, savoring the taught muscle and flesh of his chest before slowly moving lower. He positioned his hands on Drizzt's hips and lifted up, prompting him to arch his back.

Drizzt sighed, keeping his eyes on Mazn'reysla's calm face as he gently positioned his pelvis and entered. The sear indicated he had not used any oil beforehand, though Drizzt stopped noticing the second the numb bliss came over him.

Drizzt gently raised his hands, caressing his partner's lower back and easing himself to be at one with the bliss slowly spreading through. Mazn'reysla's thrust was gentle yet strong enough to be noticed. The ranger closed his eyes, arched his back, and laid his head against the grass.

"The river is running high tonight," Mazn'reysla said, his voice taking the hint of a sigh. "Its rush is calming."

Drizzt focused, drinking in the sound of the rushing river and feeling the wetness and itch of the grass against his back. The drops of rain fell from the air and pelted them both. His white hair pressed into the ground and he imagined his body a part of the earth.

His partner's thrust grew stronger and the sear returned enough to cleanse him. The very environment, every smell, every sensation, flowed in perfect harmony with the wave of bliss tightening his back muscles and relaxing the rest. He savored the press of soft, sweat-covered skin rubbing against his thighs. He arched his back upwards and managed to wrap his arms around Mazn'reysla's waist, forcing him in deeper. The thrust of his phallus and the feel of his toned muscles were like his new home; a place where he felt protected and sheltered from his many storms.

Drizzt sighed hard, feeling a tear come down his cheek as all his previous cares melted away. He gave into the waves of pleasure, opening his eyes slightly to see Mazn'reysla looking into his. His blond hair was mussed and sweat poured from his forehead, though he was even more beautiful.

The wave grew overwhelming, yet was far from over. A white, cleansing light shone through his brain…illuminating the image of a red-haired figure…

Drizzt dug his fingernails deeper into his lover's sides, concentrating on the thrust inside him and the soft ebony flesh of the one who held him now.

This is the present, he thought to himself, allowing the image of Catti-brie's smiling face fade with the white light in his brain. She is no longer on this plane, though I still am.

The image faded and the rush through every muscle in his body intensified as he gave out a few harsh moans. His warm bliss was further matched by the warm rush through his body, a clear indication that Mazn'reysla had released. He clutched harder, guiding himself on his lover more strongly until the wave took him over. He gave a clearing cry and felt his essence spill.

It was a sensation of cleansing, every ounce of blood and chaos melted from him in this wonderful moment. In the wave of fatigue, he laid down allowing Mazn'reysla's gently hand guide his back to the soft, wet grass. The cleric withdrew and Drizzt opened his eyes to see those locks of champagne-blond hair hanging over him dripping with rain. A pair of soft, red eyes was gazing through his soul.

Drizzt lifted a hand and caressed down his lover's cheek. Mazn'reysla melted at the touch, looking almost like a cat being patted.

"So you used my torment as a means to get off in the name of distracting me?" Drizzt said.

Mazn'reysla merely smiled.

"Feel better now?" thee cleric asked.

Drizzt sighed and gave a defeated nod.


	5. Five: At Play

**The Cruelest Fate**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

**Chapter 5**: **At Play**

Mazn'reysla leaned back in his plush chair, curling his knees to his chest and holding his spellbook closer to his face. He was tempted to snuff out the dying candle that rested on his side table and let his infrared vision take over the script. He thought about it once, though the soft light and the calming heat it radiated against his arm made him even more relaxed.

Mazn'eysla reached to the table and lifted the stone mug of brandied tea that was his only companion at the moment besides his book and his own contentment. It was a perfect moment where the only sound was the wind blowing through the trees…and the gentle patter of a pair of nimble feet trying to sneak up on him.

His attention remained on his book, hiding his smile as a lithe figure crept beside him, letting his white hair tumble over Maz's face and slightly block his vision. The cleric remained calm, though gently inhaled the aroma of sweat and campfire that mingled with the usual odor of his lover.

His eyes remained on the page, but those playful lavender eyes still took away his attention no matter how much it looked otherwise. Maz turned the page, noticing Drizzt leaning down more, his lips coming within an inch of his forehead and staying in one place. The cleric merely sighed and continued memorizing his magic missile spell while putting in his best effort to ignore the hot breath against his face or the well-toned arms now leaning on the arms of his chair.

He tried to ignore Drizzt's wicked smirk and dancing eyes, keeping his eyes on the page though they bore little minds of their own and trailed up for a moment to recognize him before returning to the book.

The hungry look was easy enough to ignore, though the tip of a tongue against his skin was a little harder. Maz was a master of keeping his concentration, however, and sat serenely while perfectly able to control his growing urges.

Drizzt started lapping his forehead slowly, though produced no response. He then lapped to his pointed ear, gently nibbling the tip.

At this point Maz found it too boring to resist this bit of temptation, though he couldn't let on that Drizzt had won this round.

He next felt a breath against his ear, breaths that turned into a series of threats, or promises rather, whispered in drow; the best language for the promise of behavior truly nasty.

Maz's mouth curved into a little smile like the smirk of a satisfied cat. His arms relaxed, giving only the small appearance of adjusting his book. The tip of a tongue dipped in his ear, sending a pleasant chill up his spine as he anticipated what his lover was about to do next.

That expectation did not include the sudden flow of air across his wet ear and the sound of Drizzt's footsteps walking across the floor. Maz opened his eyes a little quicker than he wanted, the light smell of clove smoke meeting his nose before his eyes wandered out the door and saw his lover leaning over the railing of the tree house, tapping the deck with one bare toe as he lazily took a draw from his stick and blew out a long stream.

Mazn'reysla cocked an eyebrow, knowing what game he was playing. He casually put his book down on the side table, slowly rising from the chair and creeping toward the door. His light feet took him out of the building a pad at a time, though Drizzt continued gazing out at the woods and betraying no knowledge of his presence.

A slender foot brushed against the ranger's black leggings, a tow dipping under the bottom cuff of his pantleg and caressing the skin underneath. Expectedly, Drizzt made no reaction. Maz quickly plotted out his next move, first thinking of just wrapping legs with him, or massage his weary shoulders.

Instead he quickly wrapped his arms around his waist, burying his chin in the collar of Drizzt's open blue tunic and nudging the hair away from his neck with his nose. The parted white mane revealed a mischievous smirk as lavender eyes casually trailed in his direction though he made no efforts to turn around and directly face him.

Neither did Drizzt take any other actions beside puff on his stick while staring down at the rest of the village. Maz stared at him lovingly for a moment, allowing himself to savor Drizzt's body heat and the perfume from his skin. Mazn'reysla nuzzled Drizzt's neck, lightly pecking his skin from the side of his jaw trailing down to the nape of his neck.

His wide red eyes looked at his lover's face, seeing no recognition of his presence at all. Drizzt even shrugged his shoulders at one point with an annoyed expression. Maz kept his arms around Drizzt's waist, rapidly becoming irritated by this little game for some bizarre reason.

Mazn'reysla smiled and unwrapped his arms from Drizzt's waist, giving him a light nudge forward as he turned and walked back into the building while giving Drizzt one defiant glance before turning the corner.

He waited in place for a moment, feeling a few seconds go by as he kept his back to the door. He awaited another series of nibbles down his neck, or even a hand turning him around to kiss him. Instead time passed with Maz just standing there. He glanced out the door and saw Drizzt gazing up into the sky, his clove long finished.

Mazn'reysla glanced ahead, wondering if this was going to go a little further. Maybe Drizzt was angry at being ignored and was being twice as temperamental as he was known for being.

The cleric was not expecting to have his body locked in a tackle that threw him to the floor. His hip ached, likely bruised, though that did not prevent Drizzt from tearing his robes off while shoving his mouth against his. Maz flinched in a momentary reaction before feeling his defenses lowered knowing he was with Drizzt, though how far was Drizzt willing to go with this?

Soon, Mazn'reysla was completely unclothed before Drizzt, whose hand caressed his chest, his hips, and started moving down for a deeper reach.

Maz snapped his legs tightly closed, crossing them and straining his muscles to prevent any access. Drizzt reached for a moment then suddenly stopped, relaxing his wandering hand and looking at Maz's face.

Maz gave him a scared and disapproving look, pulling his arms closer to his body and keeping his legs crossed. Drizzt's hungry gaze softened, a look of guilt and profound discomfort in his eyes as if he knew he had gone too far.

Drizzt lifted himself from the floor, though made it up a foot before Mazn'reysla grabbed his shoulders and yanked him down, kissing him with almost violent passion. He felt his legs spread apart as the sear indicated the fun had begun.

Drizzt had not used any oil beforehand, though Maz barely cared as his lover slammed into him, hitting every sensitive spot with violent frenzy like a wild animal. Maz let his head fall back as he gave a few happy sighs. A tight grip around his phallus and the increased intensity of the thrust made a heavier sigh escape his lips.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked up at his lover's white hair dangling over him in ragged strands as that beautiful face displayed gritted teeth and fluttering eyelids as sweat poured from his forehead. He thrusted into Maz like it was a simple exercise or an act of desperation.

Drizzt reached down and scooped both Mazn'reysla's wrists in one hand, yanking them over his head and locking them against the floor. Maz lay there, knowing he was naked and bound underneath this adept warrior who kept him entirely pinned as he thrust into him. He felt no violation and whatever helplessness was by appearances only; Drizzt knew how to work his body as a weapon, though a well placed lightning bold or magic missile would put an end to that smugness.

Maz smiled, though his smirk was caught by an unexpected moan from his lips. He usually treated such intimate acts as a form of meditation, rarely was a lover able to have him break his calm. Given this was Drizzt's first time making him do so, Mazn'reysla silently congratulated him.

He closed his eyes again and felt a tongue methodically probing the point of his ear, a sensation that hit the right nerve and sent him moaning. Drizzt quickened his thrust, slamming him against the floor as his moans became louder as his face relaxed and his lower lip trembled.

Drizzt hit another spot and Maz let out a shrill gasp as his body pulsed with passion. Drizzt went faster, hitting that spot over and over and hearing Maz actually give a long yelp as he released.

Maz expected it was over, hoping his body would calm soon and the heat would die down. However, Drizzt wasn't done yet. A few searing thrusts later, his lover released and quickly pulled free.

Maz felt himself melt with the floor, his vision nothing but sparkles as his ears. A moment later, he realized his hands were free and he lay nude on the floor. A pair of strong arms gripped his back and legs as Drizzt lifted his light form and placed him on the plush Reverie couch.

His white hair dangled down, revealing those beautiful eyes gazing down at him almost lovingly (if that was possible).

"Did you have fun, darling" Drizzt cooed with an almost innocent gaze.

Maz smiled, twirling his lover's hair in his fingers before grabbing his shoulders and yanking him into his embrace.


End file.
